10) I’m sick to death of these modern singers trying to make their version of a tired old… err, I mean traditional Christmas song sound different by hamming it up. It’s Noel, people. Two simple syllables. Noel. Not Nooeeeee-hooo-eeelllll-eeeeeeeell-lllaaaaaa-weee-llllaaaae-llllaaa-welllll-ealll-wellll-ellla-wellll! And if it’s such a joyous occasion, why does your voice sound like a sobbing five-year-old with her finger smashed in a door?
All I want for Chri-iiiiieee-iiiieee-iiieeee-iiiieeeest-maaaa-aaaaaaas i-i-i-i-i-ss yoouuu-oooww-oooooowwww-oooooooowwww-whooooaaaaa-oooooooo-whooooooaaaaaa-oooooooo-WHOOOOAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!
Yeah, and you’re going to get your man back by howling at the moon like a retarded, tone-deaf werewolf?
The other day, I heard a version of The Little Drummer Boy featuring a female vocalist rolling her r’s with every rum pa pum pum. If her intention was to simulate a drumroll using onomatopoeia, she failed more famously than NATO. If her intention was to Latinize the song, she insulted Chicanos everywhere. If her intention was to make it sound like the Little Drummer Boy was firing a machine gun at the token livestock gathered for the Nativity scene, she succeeded brilliantly.
9) Am I the only one who notices the horrible innuendos, voyeurism, and zeitgeists that occur in the “modern classics”?
Have a Holly Jolly Christmas:
Somebody waits for you/
Kiss her once for me!
Wait… what? A minute ago, you were singing about the joys of the holiday season, and now you’re encouraging me to make out with some “ho” under the mistletoe just so you can watch? Is this how you get your jollies, Burl Ives?
Baby, It’s Cold Outside:
I simply must go/
The answer is no…/
Hey, what’s in this drink?/
Wow. What a charming, family oriented song about roofie-ing some poor girl you “rescued” from the snow storm only to imprison at your house (serial killer lair) until she gives it up to you. I guess they didn’t have date rape in the ’50′s when this song came out.
Hell, while I’m writing this, the DJs on the Christmas station are discussing STDs. I rest my case.
8) Christmas music actually advocates for absentee parenting.
It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas:
Dolls that can talk and will go for a walk/
Are the hope of Janice and Jen/
And mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again!/
Yeah, the truth comes out. Teachers are glorified babysitters because you jerks don’t know how to handle your own kids.
7) I have to hear Elvis, who has no idea how to enunciate and sounds like the Godfather trying to sing with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. Or a hick trying to sing with a mouth full of deep fried peanut butter and cocaine sandwiches.
6) Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart…
And the very next day, you made yet another version of this awful song. What’s worse is that I have no sympathy for you. You had a one night stand with some jerk at the company Christmas party or whatever (Tell me baby, do you recognize me?/ Well, it’s been a year, it doesn’t surprise me/), and I’m supposed to empathize with you? And you’re still not over it a year later? Oh, but you “found a real love” and can’t be fooled again–yet you’re still whining about this a year later!
What’s even worse is that I get this travesty stuck in my head and write my own lyrics, which are even too horrible to be posted here… (A Facebook lover with a fire in his fart…)
5) Carol of the Bells…
My five-year-old is terrified of this song. Apparently, so is Peter Griffin. Of course, it always reminds me of that stupid “Ding Fries Are Done!” YouTube video that was funny ten years ago before I had matured into the sensible, cultivated man I am today.
4) It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year…
If that’s so, why is it a tour de force of all the overrated, mainstream vocalists that I couldn’t stand from every era involving vinyl? And Andy Williams, were you just totally trashed when you spit out, ”There’ll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long agooooo!”
In what Christmas tradition does one toast marshmallows over a fire and tell ghost stories? That’s called a camping trip, you moron! The only possible similarity there is the tree!
3) Edward Cullen…err, I mean Satan Claws…err, I mean Santa Claus is Coming to Town…
He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows where all the naughty girls are. He’s immortal and oft misunderstood. Could Santa Claus be a sparkly vampire?
2) Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time…
Paul McCartney, did you think that because you were a Beatle that you didn’t have to actually write anything good? That people would listen to utter crap that falls flat on every level and doesn’t say anything about anything just because you’re Paul McCartney? Did you write this song on the one-ply toilet paper at the hotel and just perform it right afterwards? I mean, you basically just put out: I’m Paul McCartney. And that’s enough.
1) Didn’t see your favorite Christmas tune here? Maybe that’s because the radio in Arizona basically plays these same freaking songs over and over and over again, and I have to listen to it all for the sake of my girls. (I could seriously go for You’re a Mean One Mr. Grinch, but at least I haven’t had to hear Alvin and the Chipmunks this year–yet.) The only one I didn’t touch on is Feliz Navidad, which is actually hysterical because my gringo kids, who apparently learned absolutely nothing from watching Dora the Explorer, think the guy on the radio is singing about the Hydra.